


Gaudy Glass

by under_a_linden_tree



Series: under_a_linden_tree's SOSH Guess the Author fics [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gift Giving, M/M, No beta we fall like Crowley, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), mentions of food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:07:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/under_a_linden_tree/pseuds/under_a_linden_tree
Summary: In which Aziraphale loses something he felt partial to and Crowley surprises him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: under_a_linden_tree's SOSH Guess the Author fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2016013
Comments: 23
Kudos: 30
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #4 "A Gift"





	Gaudy Glass

**Author's Note:**

> Written for round four of the Soft Omens server's Guess The Author game.

On the first day at their new cottage, they unload their moving boxes. There’s many of them, they’re dusty and filled to the brim.

On the second day, Aziraphale does a first inventory of his things. He ticks them off on a list, takes a thorough look at his belongings and finds some of them missing. Most of them he can deal with, quills and old tickets that have slipped through the cracks, but he mourns the loss of a pocket watch in particular. It is, perhaps, the only thing he’s ever nicked in the course of six-thousand years. He’d borrowed it at first, back in the 1770s, but he’d liked it so much that he never returned it to Crowley. He never dared to wear it though, garishly studded with rubies and black glass as it was.

“I lost something I’d rather intended to keep,” Aziraphale tells Crowley. “I shouldn’t be upset about it – it was just a pocket watch – and yet…”

On the third day, Crowley leaves early for London, says he has to collect something important. Aziraphale assumes it’s a plant for their garden, still half frozen-over by the slow-fading winter. The day passes, light and dark, until he returns in the late hours of the evening, breezing into the corridor.

“Aziraphale!” he calls out. “I’m back. Got something for you.”

Aziraphale’s face lights up as he rounds the corner and sees Crowley – that alone would be enough, that ever-beloved face; he doesn’t have to give him anything.

“Did you bring pastry?” he guesses. Crowley often does these days.

Crowley shakes his head, grins a little and hands him a small box. It’s barely bigger than his palm. Aziraphale has a suspicion as to what it might be.

“Come on, open it. I want to know if you’ll like it.”

Aziraphale takes it obligingly, doesn’t say what’s on the tip of his tongue – that he’d love the gift anyway. It’s wrapped with a red ribbon, which Aziraphale undoes tidily, so he can snap open the box underneath it. The bright smile on his lips fades a little.

A pocket watch is inside, but it’s not what he expected. He’d thought of 18th century, of gaudy stones and paint, but it’s not what he finds. Instead, the watch is a blend of modern and old, of black and gold. Red glass details and carvings. A balance of what makes them _uniquely_ them, channelled into a precious little object.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley asks, careful to keep disappointment out of his voice.

Aziraphale nearly drops the gift at that. “It’s lovely.” He rests a reassuring hand on Crowley’s arm, brushes a gentle thumb over his wrist. “I adore it, my dear. Of course I do.”

“That’s good, because I insist that you wear it. Never wore my old one, did you?”

It doesn’t sound put out, just a little tease mixed with hope. That’s something to cherish, too, more than the gift: The hope being together creates.


End file.
